


Okay

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, non-explicit sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Noah is dead and there's nothing Ronan can do about it





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr September 23, 2017 to fulfill a prompt for Ronan/Noah: “Hey. I’m with you, okay? Always.”
> 
> I set this near the beginning of The Dream Thieves, right around the time Noah disappears in Dollar City and Gansey buys the pool table. Listen, the pool table is an under utilized piece of furniture and it deserves more action *ahem*

Ronan has the perfect shot lined up. He’s on a roll, all of the solid colored balls have sunk, one after the other, in the pockets of the pool table. He only has this last shot to make and he’ll have played a perfect game. Against himself.

Ronan leans across the table, his shirt riding up, the bare skin of his stomach brushing against the green felt. A steady inhale. He sights down the stick, the tip sliding between his fingers as he takes aim and shoots. The cue ball cracks against the eight ball sending it straight for the pocket. Ronan doesn’t take his eyes off the ball, smugly admiring his performance. At the last moment the ball comes to a sudden stop, poised just on the cusp of the pocket. Ronan frowns and straightens up.

“Fuck you, Noah,” he growls and picks up one of the striped balls and throws it across the table. It strikes the opposite wall hard enough to knock a dent in the dry wall. A disembodied chuckle haunts the room.

“Missed me,” Noah whispers directly in his ear and Ronan feels chills rush up and down his back, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He whirls around but Noah isn’t there.

“Damn it.” Ronan scans the room, looking for a new disturbance, his heart thudding against his ribs. “Noah, cut that shit out.”

Noah’s laugh rises from the floor. A breath grazes Ronan’s exposed hip, followed by a phantom touch tracing down the sharp V of his hipbone. Ronan grasps for a hand that isn’t there, his breath stuttering, puffing out in front of him in pale clouds.

“S-s-stop,” Ronan pleads, his teeth chattering. “That’s not fair, Noah.” He’s so cold he feels it in his bones.

“Being dead isn’t fair.”

Noah appears in front of him, kneeling on the floor, hands gripping behind Ronan’s knees. The side of his face – where his skateboard was bludgeoned into his skull – looks ghastly. Ronan is awash in raw grief, his heart aching. It never gets easier, seeing Noah like this but Ronan almost prefers it this way, honest and horrible. He cups Noah’s chin in his hand, tilting his head back. Noah’s throat stretches out, pale and lovely when he swallows. His chest rises and falls but he’s not really breathing, just reacting to Ronan’s subconscious need for him to _appear_ living. Ronan’s fingers stray across Noah’s jaw, behind his ear and into his hair, slowly running through his wispy locks. Noah makes a quiet moaning noise, more human than ghostly and Ronan laughs, soft and surprised.

“C’mere,” Ronan says, taking Noah’s cold hands and drawing him up. Ronan wraps his arms around Noah’s back, hands moving in slow, random patterns over his Aglionby sweater. “Hey,” Ronan murmurs, his lips brushing over the crown of Noah’s messy hair, “I’m with you, okay?” Noah trembles, cold rippling off him, shadows darkening and encroaching. Ronan holds him tighter, closes his eyes and breaths his promise on Noah’s lips, “Always.”

Kissing Noah is reckless but he keeps doing it. Ronan knows that every kiss is dangerous, sucking him deeper into the heartbreak that he knows is coming. Maybe that’s why their kisses are fierce and sharp, fear and pain and longing and need boiling over.

Noah pushes Ronan down onto the pool table and climbs on top of him. Ronan lets Noah take his energy, lets him feed off his warmth. It makes Ronan weak and a little dizzy, like he’s given blood or suffered a blow to the head. Noah tugs Ronan’s arms over his head, his thumbs pressing down on Ronan’s wrists until it hurts.

“Noah—” Ronan gasps as Noah settles between his legs. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Noah says, nipping at Ronan’s bottom lip before kissing him again. “You like this,” he adds.

“I do,” Ronan admits, his eyes locked on Noah’s face, watching his expressions shift. Chasing pleasure like this – pinned under Noah, sharing energy, arching up as Noah moves against him – feels like cheating. But Noah stares back so intently that Ronan doesn’t care that they’re both pretending. For the moment it’s real, and that’s all they need.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
